Rosario Perlyn
Pink Padawan
Rosario was still dazed from this afternoon's prolonged meditation session. She felt a bit as if she were dreaming, and the world seemed more magical than usual as she was wandering through it. Some part of her imagined that if she dropped to the floor now, it would be a soft fall, simply because the world felt like a very friendly place. The remainders of a pleasant tingling sensation still occasionally ran over her scalp and down her arms. She wasn't sure that all of this was how it was supposed to be, but feeling relaxed and happy, she didn't think to worry.
Stepping outside into the garden, she was met with the thick, heavy air of a Deneba afternoon. She didn't mind it, on the contrary, it somehow seemed to fit well with her current state. The garden struck her as extraordinarily alive today, despite the fact that it was not exactly a luscious jungle, even if there was more vegetation, in the form of cactuses, low-growing bushes and knotty trees, than occurred naturally in most places in the Deneban mountains. But today, it felt almost like a jungle. Rosario walked up to the low wall that separated the garden from a precipitous cliff and looked down and into the distance. The desert felt dead and grey in comparison to the garden behind her. She noticed this, noticed, that she noticed, but thought no more of it.
As she turned back, she spotted an ancient-looking figure - at least she judged so by the colour of his practically white hair -, back turned towards her, sitting on the floor and apparently manipulating with slow, careful, measured movements something in front of him. Her curiosity piqued, Rosario went around to see what he was doing and watch. She made no attempt at concealing that she was doing so; in this moment, it was inconceivable to her that someone should react negatively.
Stepping outside into the garden, she was met with the thick, heavy air of a Deneba afternoon. She didn't mind it, on the contrary, it somehow seemed to fit well with her current state. The garden struck her as extraordinarily alive today, despite the fact that it was not exactly a luscious jungle, even if there was more vegetation, in the form of cactuses, low-growing bushes and knotty trees, than occurred naturally in most places in the Deneban mountains. But today, it felt almost like a jungle. Rosario walked up to the low wall that separated the garden from a precipitous cliff and looked down and into the distance. The desert felt dead and grey in comparison to the garden behind her. She noticed this, noticed, that she noticed, but thought no more of it.
As she turned back, she spotted an ancient-looking figure - at least she judged so by the colour of his practically white hair -, back turned towards her, sitting on the floor and apparently manipulating with slow, careful, measured movements something in front of him. Her curiosity piqued, Rosario went around to see what he was doing and watch. She made no attempt at concealing that she was doing so; in this moment, it was inconceivable to her that someone should react negatively.
[member="Tiland Kortun"]